


brass and faux fur coats

by CampionSayn



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, M/M, Steve would look DAMN FINE in a fur coat from the '30s, Tumblr Prompt, consumption of weird waffle cookies, not really sure if I succeeded with the tone?, the World War II fic that only one person wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: Steve wasn't supposed to be a hero. He was supposed to let his parents control his life until he went to university. And then the war happened and he grew a conscience.Now he's out a car, a girlfriend and his blissful ignorance.However, there are some perks to all this running around...maybe.





	brass and faux fur coats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightshine629](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nightshine629).

> This took significantly longer than it should have and my only excuse is because I have no idea what the hell I was really supposed to be doing. I have read historical fiction, but I've never written it. 
> 
> Feel free to tell me if it sucks.

The cycle of violence. Steve Harrington used to pay little to zero attention to the phrase before the War broke out, and tried not to listen to anyone who brought it up in conversations, because his parents kept an eye on those people.  
  
_Troublemakers_, his mom would say to him with that smile painted with that rouge he hated, breath full of red wine to complement it. _Liabilities_, his father would whisper under his breath, making a note of who said it, tucking away scraps of paper in his gold plated cigarette case to be given to someone they were in business with that Steve was sure and certain would blow his father away without a second thought on a bad day, but spent most of their time bending both of his parents over.  
  
Then he met Nancy Wheeler, got to know her, fell in love with her during parties in Paris or some manor in the English countryside with people who generally tried to keep out of the war; he listened to what she had to say and tried not to let what his friends _(also lounging around at these parties, because they had grown up in the same circles with parents who gave them whatever they wanted unless it involved their love and affection)_ said about her cloud his judgement.  
  
He thought about things, not exactly the way she did, but as close as he could come. He wasn't smart, this much he knew, but he was a creature of instinct who noticed things when they were important.  
  
Which was especially useful and good when he noticed Nancy with Jonathan Byers, talking out behind one of those manors in kitchen doorways, under garden sheds, straddling the shade and the light while Jonathan parked cars for the rich people inside that Steve found less and less in common with as the war progressed and he took in how malicious Tommy and Carol were becoming. How gaunt and worried Jonathan seemed when he caught Steve's eye when he went to find Nancy; how Nancy played at being all together, but also jumped if he tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
He also knew she started carrying a gun when Jonathan's brother stopped tagging along with him to those kitchens to peel potatoes, or sweep floors; how he hadn't seen Barb with Nancy at those parties for months and Nancy spent one fairly memorable night drinking and drinking and drinking, before Steve stole her away to the edge of the forest, gave her a champagne glass he'd filled with water and salt and let her vomit all of it back up before crying her eyes out and cursing his family and all their friends for the bullshit they had a hand in with this war.  
  
He hadn't wanted to, because he was still holding his breath that she might one day care about him, instead of just keeping near him like a totem of protection among these swimming sharks that would tear her to pieces given the chance, instead of pitying him for being _kind_ but _stupid_. But he'd had Byers drive her home in Steve's Rolls Royce and told them to keep the car, as well as the sum total of two-thousand pounds he had stored in the glove compartment that he told his parents he'd tried investing in a venture that was doing well but had suffered bankruptcy due to recent bombings in Holland.  
  
"I have a feeling you'll get more use out of it."  
  
Jonathan had searched his face for what felt like a full minute, not sure about something, but he must have been hopeful anyway, because he took the keys and shook Steve's hand, and drove off. The trees shading them from the moonlight and shadows forming not-quite-men that caused Steve to shiver, grab his faux fur necked jacket that Tommy constantly sneered made him look like a queer or a woman, and walked back to where his "family" were staying in Sussex until a week later when they would be leaving for Wales.

* * *

  
Steve didn't see either of them again until he was nineteen, two years later and he had been part of the Underground for a year; using his family money to very discretely go behind his parents' line of sight and save lives. One of the people he ended up saving, brother to a redhead that Lucas _(one of what felt like many children under his protection at all times after the Blitz who followed him around like puppies and were just as protective_) fancied early on, asked his name and further questioned if he was sometimes jokingly referred to as 'King Steve' by the Upper Crust Steve had learned to despise after seeing so many dead.  
  
The boy, Billy Hargrove, was allowed to make a call in front of Hopper (not technically a general in the Underground, but when needs must, then it fit) when Steve got the two to safety and had a shit-eater grin adorning his face when four familiar faces wandered into the hideout an hour after Steve had showered and had a shallow cut sewn up along his shoulder by Dustin and Lucas.  
  
Nancy and Jonathan had brought Mike and Will along, having to move them from their previous location before Billy called them anyway, and looked absolutely stupefied by Steve's existence in the Underground. Not just as a benefactor, but as one of the undercover soldiers they all desperately needed.  
  
He couldn't say he wasn't surprised when all four hugged him, thanking him for "everything," and whatever that entailed, immediately letting go when he hissed at tugging on his stitches and Billy sniped that they should calm down and sit down, "With some of the shitty tea and crumpets or whatever the fuck the Brits keep in the cupboards here, damn."  
  
"I'm not British," Steve corrected, automatic despite himself, brown doe eyes glancing over at the blond with a head tilt not unlike the animated characters of Walt Disney.  
  
Billy's eyebrow raised at that, looking around at the fairly well-kept building where Steve had been keeping his kids and others as the war progressed until they had to move again. There were china plates and silver tea sets, books bound in leather left out by El _(trying to further her education that was far behind due to living in a concentration camp that specialized in human experimentation with a manipulative bastard before Hopper found her in a raid and brought her back with him)_ and fresh bandage rolls and iodine bottles. No dust anywhere and an honest to god Electrolux Refrigerator that everyone present could hear running in the kitchen.  
  
Steve blushed and explained despite not really needing to do so as Max (what she insisted to be called and wouldn't expound on) gave her brother a little glare from where Lucas was looking over cuts on her knuckles she'd gotten when a patrol officer knocked down Billy before Steve could hit him with a Nightstick, "My father's British and my mother's from New York. I just use their properties when they're not looking to help with the war effort."  
  
"So, not from around here then?"  
  
"No, I'm from Indiana originally. A little town called Hawkins. Yourself?"   
  
He jerked a thumb up to his chest, proud as a peacock and puffing up not unlike one showing off, "California born and bred. I'm only here because my father's a fucking idiot and took Max and her mom to France before the occupation. And she may not be my blood, but I'll be damned if I ended up wasting all that time in Cali protecting her, just so Neil could get her killed trying to impress Susan enough so she'd spread her legs."   
  
This last bit of information was hissed low enough that it was almost as if he was talking to himself, but Billy kept looking back at Steve when he wasn't glancing over to make sure Max was in fact still okay while Lucas applied cleaning agents to her open cuts.   
  
He was an asshole, Steve had been painfully aware on their first encounter when Billy had thought he was an enemy trying to arrest him instead of an ally trying to rescue him and punched him in the face before Max vouched for Steve; not even apologizing for the rather sizable shiner Steve would be wearing for at least a week, but he seemed like he tried to be as good of a brother as he was able.  
  
Rather attractive, if Steve did say so.  
  
He coughed, hands darting into the pockets of the coat everyone still gave him shit about to pull out his stale and watermarked cigarettes to occupy himself before he'd go into the kitchen in a few minutes, trying not to think too hard about _that_ thought, "I should have coffee and those weird waffle cookies lying around, if anyone wants some?"   
  
He flicked his lighter, and though he addressed the room at large, his eyes were directed at Hargrove, offering one of his last cigarettes still in the pack _(it was disgusting, but sweet Princess Nicotine would probably chill him out)_ to the blond.

* * *

  
"I can't believe you talked me into this."   
  
"Yes, you can," Steve sighed, helping Billy button up the extremely expensive suit he'd gotten for him so they could pull off this negotiation between the Germans and who the Germans _assumed_ were shady business men that would help them create weapons in occupied France, but were _in fact_ the resistance playing thieves in the night while the Germans _unknowingly_ paid them to do it. 

  
Billy had been roped into this deal and venture because he was so obviously American that the Reich had no doubt that he could be shady for their own devices, and Steve was to be Billy's partner in this charade because while he might be dumb with most things, he could parrot the shit he'd been hearing his parents spew for over a decade like the best goddamn actor in Hollywood.   
  
_(Billy's words, and maybe a little bit from Max, certainly not Steve's personal opinion.)_  
  
They most assuredly looked the part, Billy had to give credit to Nancy for noting that during the meeting that would determine the soldiers being used, and they had pulled off more dangerous stuff on the fly as Jonathan had noted right behind his girlfriend. It was really more these last minute jitters Hargrove seemed to have whenever there was the threat of more than a dozen Nazi loyalists occupying the room with him and Steve; this required some psyching up and talking into.   
  
"You'll do fine, Billy," Steve continued, holding Billy's wrist up to adjust the cuff-links made with real diamonds and gold that made Billy sweat to think how much they'd cost to replace if he got blood on them; Steve's nimble fingers against his skin raising goosebumps here and there, "You could probably sell a corpse to a coroner. Just pretend they're all college girls back in California and, I don't know, do whatever it is that's been working for you for years."   
  
Billy couldn't resist.   
  
"Hey, if I do what's been working for me for years in front of you, that'd be like giving my trade secrets away. What do I get for giving you the keys to the kingdom after all this is wrapped up?" He grinned, smile real and eyes half-lidded while Steve rolled his eyes and did up the tie around his neck, sheer and black with those fingers running like the wind.   
  
"I could buy you dinner, how about that?" Steve said it like he was bored, all deadpan snark, but without bite and there was a tilt to the edge of his lips that Billy happened to know for a fact meant he'd be getting his way in this matter.  
  
"Just dinner," much bigger, much stronger hands took the opportunity to grab Steve's hips as the slightly taller of the two leaned in while adjusting the starch white suit collar, thumbs pressing against hip bones, making Steve lose focus a moment to enjoy it, "Or with a little dessert? Like a proper date, hm, pretty boy?"   
  
Steve finished, hands flashing across the clothing to press out stray wrinkles and finally seemed like he would give. Not all the way of course, he loved playing hard to get, which was one of the reasons Billy seemed to like teasing and chasing him in the months since they'd met, but he was a merciful boy.   
  
"Yes, fine, with a little dessert, you huge con artist," he grumbled, leaning in to give the corner of Billy's mouth a little peck, eyes glowing soft light even as they both started minutely at the buzzer downstairs sounding and they fully immersed into their fake skins and fake roles.   
  
Billy gave Steve his own reassurance, hand to his neck to bring their foreheads together, before they both straightened and sauntered down to meet the very unwelcome guests of the evening, "It's a date."


End file.
